


The Curious Thing About Emotions

by Scrawlers



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Callum's relationship with Rayla is platonic at the moment but shippy if you squint, Canon Compliant as of right now, Family, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, New Prosthetic Limb, Runaan has PTSD, Season 3 Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 05:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17934161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: The curious thing about emotions is that while they can be understood, that doesn't mean that they understand. Runaan knows that what happened was not Rayla's fault, and he does not want to blame her. But what he knows and what he feels upon their reunion are two very different things.





	The Curious Thing About Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> “Raveid” is the name I’ve chosen for Tinker for the time being. It’s a spelling variant on the name “Ravid.” I like the way this makes it so that each member of this little family has a name that starts with “R.”

When Runaan reunited with Rayla, the first thing he felt was relief.

The second thing he felt was anger.

And the third thing he felt was shame.

**\- - -**

As an assassin, Runaan knew that the loss of his life was ultimately no one’s fault but his own.

His enemies could not be faulted for trying to kill him in the midst of battle, and reliance on one’s teammates only went so far. As much as they worked in teams, ultimately it was each assassin’s responsibility to prepare themselves mind, body, and soul for the mission. In the midst of battle, no one could afford to make their own life someone else’s responsibility. It was why if they were captured, moonshadow elves were taught to think of themselves as already dead. No one would come to rescue them. If they could not find their own way out, they were already dead. Runaan’s life was his responsibility, and his responsibility alone.

So he knew, as he sat chained to the wall in a dark dungeon, accompanied only by a cursed mirror (and the person whose hand was attached to the print left on the inside of the glass, a print he refused to acknowledge even with thought) that his fate was not Rayla’s fault. It was not Rayla’s fault, though she had allowed the human scout to live. It was not Rayla’s fault, though she had purposefully tried to sabotage the mission and delay him from assisting the others (others who were now dead, their corpses strewn across stone, the sounds of their last breaths playing over and over again in his head). It was not Rayla’s fault, though she had chosen to believe the human princes, though she had allowed Prince Ezran to live despite the binding that cut deeper into Runaan’s arm with each passing day. It was not her fault, and he could only will the universe with every atom in his aching body that the moon had sheltered her that night—that her body hadn’t joined the others, that she hadn’t breathed her last somewhere he couldn’t see or hear.

Later (some time later, and who knew how long; what way was there to track the flow of time within a  _coin_?), when he saw that she hadn’t—when he saw that she had escaped, that she  _lived_ , that she was alive and well and in the company of the dragon prince himself—he felt a surge of relief. It was nothing but public decorum and the sense that it wouldn’t be right, given that he was her mentor, that stopped him from pulling her into a hug with his remaining arm. Rayla was alive, and well, and had traveled back to Xadia with the dragon prince and the human princes (before one of them had left), and as she recounted her story, her words tumbling out in a rush as she barely paused to take a breath, using both hands to gesticulate as she told her tale . . .

Runaan’s remaining hand curled into a fist, and he could not blame her for faltering at the look he was sure she saw on his face.

**\- - -**

It was not Rayla’s fault. Runaan knew that. He had told himself that again and again while in the dungeon, so much so that it was as much a mantra as  _I am already dead_ had been. It was not Rayla’s fault. It was not Rayla’s fault.

His nails scraped the wood of his chair’s armrest as his fingers formed another fist.

“I imagine Rayla will be back to check in soon,” Raveid said with feigned nonchalance from his workbench. Runaan ripped his gaze from the rug he’d been glaring at, but Raveid wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were instead focused on the parts spread over his table. “Are you feeling up for that?”

“I’m fine,” Runaan said. It had only been a few days, but by now the response was automatic.

Raveid made a disbelieving sound in the back of his throat. “You aren’t, but that isn’t what I asked.”

Runaan scowled.

But Raveid pressed the subject no further. After tightening a few screws and testing a joint, he lifted the prosthetic arm he’d been constructing from his workbench and crossed the room to Runaan’s chair. “Extend your arm, please?” he asked.

Runaan did as requested. Raveid positioned the prosthetic against his shoulder, extending it so that it was parallel with Runaan’s remaining arm, the fingertips touching.

“I believe that’s about right,” Raveid said, more to himself than Runaan. He straightened, and the prosthetic arm fell to his side. “I’ll need to consult with medical, but so long as they’re prepared we may be able to attach it tomorrow.”

“What’s preventing us from doing it tonight?” Runaan asked.

Raveid smiled ruefully. “The presence of a doctor, and enough poppy to ensure this hurts as little as possible.”

Runaan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I assure you I’ve felt worse.”

“You do?” Raveid asked, raising his eyebrows in faux surprise. “I wasn’t aware you’d ever had a prosthetic limb connected to your nerves before. You’ll need to  relay that story to me sometime.”

This time, Runaan  _did_ roll his eyes.

But before he had a chance to answer the front door to their home opened, and before she rounded the corner from the hallway, Runaan recognized Rayla by the sound of her footsteps: light but long strides, ones that carried her swiftly, but with purpose. She turned the corner into the living room, and the moment her eyes fell on him she stood ramrod straight, her hand clasped around her wrist. It was a nervous fidget, one she’d had her whole life.

Runaan looked back down at the rug.

“Hi—Hello! Um—how’re you feelin’?” Rayla asked. Her voice was so chipper it was almost brittle. Raveid carried the prosthetic arm back to his workbench.

“I’m fine,” Runaan said. The two words barely sounded real anymore.

“Oh, that’s—that’s good!” Silence. The floorboards creaked under Rayla’s feet as she shifted her weight. Another nervous fidget. “We were—um, Callum and I were thinkin’—”

Callum. The human. One of the human princes Rayla had forged an alliance with on the night their four comrades were killed, and Runaan himself was not given that mercy.

Though he’d said nothing, his thoughts must have shown, for Rayla hastily switched tracks. “Well, we were thinkin’ that it might be best to hit the road soon. We want to get the wee dragon—”

“Prince Azymondias,” Runaan cut across. He didn’t have to look at Rayla to know she winced.

“Prince Azymondias, right. We want to get him back home to his mother as soon as possible, and there’s always a possibility that—well, we want to make sure we aren’t followed by . . . by anyone.”

“Humans.” 

“Yeah, um. Them.” Rayla cleared her throat. “So, I was wonderin’—do you know when . . . ah, you might . . . ?”

“We may be able to have his operation completed tomorrow,” Raveid said. His voice was soothing—but then, to Runaan’s ears, his voice was always soothing. “But he’ll still need months of recuperation after. It may be a while before we’re able to join you.”

“Tomorrow’s great for the operation! I knew you’d come through for him, Raveid,” Rayla said, and Runaan chewed on his tongue. “And anyone else might need a few  _months_ of recuperation, but I’m sure the same can’t be said for Runaan, right?” Weighted silence hung between them, and when Rayla spoke again, the cheer in her voice faltered. “Ru-Runaan?”

Runaan took a deep breath through his nose. He did not look at her. “We’ll see.”

“. . . Right.” Runaan heard Rayla take a deep breath of her own. “Well, I’d better go, um—check on Zy—Prince Azymondias and Callum. See if there’s anything more they need before I head to bed. You know how humans are; can’t leave ‘em alone for more than five minutes without them fallin’ into some kind of mess or other, and I don’t want the wee prince dragged into it, too.”

“Don’t stay out too late,” Raveid said, and Runaan could hear the smile in his voice.

“I won’t,” Rayla said, and Runaan could hear the lie in hers. She hesitated before leaving, but only for a moment before she rounded the corner back into the hallway, and out the front door.

Raveid waited until the door shut before he set his tools back on his workbench, and crossed the room to stand by Runaan’s side again. “It wasn’t her fault,” he said gently.

“I know that,” Runaan said, and he did. He knew. He had told himself, over and over again, when locked in that dungeon. It wasn’t Rayla’s fault. It wasn’t Rayla’s fault.

Raveid nodded. “You know it,” he agreed, but then he placed his hand against Runaan’s chest, over his heart. “But you don’t  _feel_ it.” 

Runaan said nothing. There was nothing he  _could_ say, not to that.

Raveid let his hand linger for a moment before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against Runaan’s lips.

“Come to bed,” he said, and he took Runaan’s remaining hand in his own. “You’ll need all the rest you can muster for tomorrow.”

Runaan squeezed Raveid’s hand gently, and then let Raveid pull him up from his chair.

**\- - -**

As per usual, Raveid hadn’t been wrong, about anything. The surgery to attach his prosthetic arm came with pain almost unlike anything Runaan had ever experienced, despite the poppy milk they’d used as an anesthetic. (Almost, because Runaan remembered what it had felt like to be imprisoned in a coin, and that— _that_ was incomparable, particularly since he’d lacked the poppy that time.) And Runaan, despite  _thinking_ otherwise, did  _feel_ anger and blame toward Rayla, for all that she had done to lead both him and their team to the ends they met. But the curious thing about emotions was that, once they were acknowledged, they often changed. Acknowledgement afforded control, and when Runaan acknowledged that the reason why it was so hard for him to so much as  _look_ at her after their reunion was because he couldn’t look at her without feeling the effects of what she had done, he was also able to acknowledge that it was up to him to master the emotions that were now hurting both of them.

It was a feat that was easier said than done. Rayla was lingering in their village far longer than she should have, and Runaan knew that she was lingering because of him. It was funny, in a way that brought him no laughter at all, how this did not surprise him. So much of Rayla’s behavior was predictable. In hindsight, her sparing the guard was predictable. Her deciding to side with the human princes was not, but then he supposed that should have been, too. But that she was choosing to linger because of him—that she didn’t want to leave, not without setting right what she had done wrong—was not. Rayla had always owned up to her mistakes. She had always tried to rectify anything she did wrong. That this was something that couldn’t be mended wouldn’t deter her. Nothing ever had in the past.

Still, escorting Prince Azymondias back to the queen was of the utmost importance, and Runaan needed to make sure Rayla knew that. At the least, he needed to give her no further reasons to linger. It was with that intention that he sought her out after a tense and uncomfortable breakfast, and found her seated in a cluster of bushes by a pond at the edge of the village, the human prince by her side, his arm loosely around her shoulders, and the dragon prince himself sleeping on the grass beside them.

The human prince looked up as Runaan neared, and glared as their eyes met. Runaan returned the look in kind.

Rayla did not notice. She sniffed, and swiped her arm across her eyes before she looked up. She was crying, or at least she had been, and that—

That was the other curious thing about emotions. Acknowledgement afforded control, yet they could still change on a dime, without a moment’s notice or warning.

Rayla finally noticed that the human prince— _Callum_ , Rayla had called him—was looking over her shoulder, and she, too, turned to meet Runaan’s eyes. Unlike Callum, Rayla did not glare; instead, she wiped more hastily still at her eyes and her cheeks before she scrambled to her feet. Callum rose, too, to stand by her side.

The liquid, icy sense of shame that had burst in Runaan’s chest when he noticed Rayla crying settled in his gut like an iron weight.

“Runaan!” Rayla stood at attention, her shoulders back. “Ah—do you need me for something?” 

“No,” Runaan said, and though it was mostly true, it wasn’t what he’d meant to say, and he regretted it the moment Rayla’s shoulders slumped. But things that were done could not be undone; what was most important was pressing forward, and focusing on the mission at hand. “I only wanted to inquire about when you were planning on leaving.”

“Oh,” Rayla said. Her eyes trailed to the grass beneath her feet before she steeled herself, and looked up to meet Runaan’s eyes instead. “We were thinkin’ about leaving in the next day or so. We wanted to take time to gather supplies, and—and make sure we were sure about the way.”

Runaan nodded. Preparation, planning—he’d taught her those skills. He was glad to see her using them now, even though— “Be sure that you do. Reuniting Prince Azymondias with the queen is of the utmost importance. You can’t afford to linger any longer.” 

“Right.” Rayla nodded, and blinked a few times more than necessary. “Well, I’m—I’m gonna go see Raveid about setting up a travel pack. Callum, want to come with? You can carry Zy—Prince Azymondias, since he seems intent on sleepin’ the day away.”

“In a minute,” Callum said, and he smiled at her as the aforementioned prince rolled over in his sleep, a drowsy croon escaping him. “I’ve got something I want to do first.”

Rayla frowned, and narrowed her eyes before she wagged a finger at him. “Don’t cause trouble. I mean it. We’re only here for one more night and I don’t need to spend it gettin’ you out of trouble.”

Callum rolled his eyes. “Yes, Lady Rayla, I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Enough with the  _‘lady’_  business. Do I look human to you?” Rayla said, but she sounded more amused than annoyed. Callum, too, had a smile tugging on his lips despite the sarcasm in his voice. Rayla poked him in the chest. “But you’d better.”

Callum gently moved her finger from his chest. “I will.”

Rayla flashed him a smile—the first real smile Runaan had seen from her since their reunion, he thought. But it fell the moment her eyes flickered over Runaan himself, and before he could think to say anything to her, she spun on the ball of her foot and started back across the village.

Her back was not turned for more than a second before Runaan felt Callum’s eyes on him, and after a weighted few seconds, Runaan said, “If you have something you wish to say, I suggest you say it.”

“What happened to you wasn’t Rayla’s fault,” Callum said, without a moment’s hesitation.

“I know that,” Runaan said, through a clenched jaw. He looked over to find that Callum was once again glaring at him, and once again, Runaan knew he was returning the expression in kind.

“Then maybe you could try acting like it,” Callum said, his voice hard. “Because right now it’s like you’re shunning her for doing the right thing.”

“. . . ‘The right thing,’” Runaan repeated. He turned fully to face Callum, who to his credit did not back down under the scrutiny. “The other four members of our team died as a direct result of Rayla’s actions. I myself was incapacitated because of the same. While each of us was responsible for our own preparation and abilities, the fact remains that a key component of our mission suffered irreparable sabotage at Rayla’s hands. She betrayed not only our mission, but all of us as well. Would you call that doing ‘the right thing’?”

Runaan did not miss the flinch that crossed Callum’s face at the mention of the deaths of the other four, but Callum still raised his chin in defiance as he said, “I would call refusing to kill an innocent person the right thing. My brother did nothing wrong. Rayla spared his life, and both Ezran and Zym are alive today because of it.” 

“Yes,” Runaan agreed. So used was he to humans not knowing the true names of dragons that he did not bother to correct Callum’s mistake. “And the other four members of our team are not.”

“Neither is my father,” Callum said, his eyes narrowing, “because  _you_ killed him.”

“Yes,” Runaan agreed again, and Callum clenched his fists, “because he killed Prince Azymondias’ father, the dragon king.” 

Once again, a flinch that would have gone unnoticed by anyone without assassin’s eyes flashed across Callum’s face. This time, he broke eye contact to look away.

“Thunder killed my mother,” he said quietly.

“After she crossed the Xadian border and, with the assistance of other humans, killed a magma titan,” Runaan countered.

A muscle was taut in Callum’s jaw, and he swallowed hard before he spoke again, his voice low. “It’s a cycle.”

“An apt way of putting it,” Runaan said. “And where do you think that cycle ends?”

Callum did not answer immediately, and in honesty Runaan wasn’t sure what answer he expected. Years of life and experience had taught him that humans did not hold the same value for life that moonshadow elves did. Of course, it was difficult for even other elves to understand life and death the way moonshadow elves did, but humans in particular seemed to have very little regard for those who weren’t their own. With that in mind, perhaps the most predictable answer from Callum would be that the cycle would end when the Xadians chose to end it—when they chose to stop seeking justice for those killed by the human kingdoms, when they allowed the humans to poach as many magical beings from Xadia as they wished.

But while Callum was quiet for a moment, his eyes on Prince Azymondias as the young dragon chewed on blades of grass in his sleep, when he turned back to lock eyes with Runaan again, he simply said, “With us.”

There were many things Callum could have meant by ‘us.’ He could have been referring to himself and Prince Azymondias, or himself and the rest of humanity. Runaan studied him for a moment, unsure of which was meant, but he closed his eyes a moment later as he realized it didn’t much matter. Whichever meaning Callum had intended, he had included himself in it as well.

Of all the humans Rayla could have chosen to travel with, Runaan supposed this was not the worst of them.

“We’ll see,” Runaan said finally, for a human’s word was never a certainty. 

But there was no longer time to ruminate on Callum’s intentions. There were too many other things Runaan had to do. Physical therapy for his prosthetic arm, as medical had ordered, and preparations for a potential human invasion that he had to oversee and ensure were thorough. He turned, then, to head for one of those (he would decide which depending on which was nearest to his path), but the moment he turned his back, Callum spoke again.

“Wait! That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Runaan paused, and glanced over his shoulder. “Then what is?” 

Once again Callum was glaring, his lips set in a firm frown. “Rayla.”

Any appreciation that Runaan might have felt for Callum evaporated. He closed his eyes for a second to give himself an opportunity before he turned halfway, and fixed Callum with such a look that the boy faltered.

“There is nothing concerning Rayla that I need to discuss with  _you_ ,” Runaan said. He inclined his head toward Prince Azymondias, whose tail thumped the ground as he dreamed. “Tend to His Highness, and try to keep out of the way of our preparations.”

“She thinks you hate her because of what happened,” Callum said, as Runaan turned away again. Runaan clenched his jaw. “You need to go eas—”

“Did I not make myself clear?” Runaan demanded, and this time when he turned Callum actually took a step back, closer to the pond. By his feet, Prince Azymondias yawned, and slowly blinked his eyes open. “Our conversation is finished.”

Runaan recognized a mutinous look when he saw one, and the way Callum’s lips curled suggested he was about to argue. But Prince Azymondias was fully awake at last, and after a loud yawn he bumped his head against Callum’s calf. Callum glanced down, his attention successfully stolen by the dragon prince, and Runaan took the opportunity to leave the scene once and for all.

**\- - -**

Rayla, Prince Azymondias, and Callum set off on their journey two days later, just as Rayla had speculated they might. It wasn’t supposed to be a public affair, but the departure of the dragon prince from their midst garnered the attention of most everyone in the village. Most people did not feel Rayla was worthy of escorting him; there had been talks, and not all of them whispers, about others taking her place as the young liege’s guard. But Runaan had not entertained any discussions of the sort, and even those who didn’t bother to make their disapproval of Rayla secret knew better than to bring the matter to him directly. So a crowd gathered at the edge of the village, a crescent formed around the group of three as they prepared to set off, Runaan and Raveid among them.

“You can use this in case there is ever an emergency,” Raveid said, and Rayla ducked her head so he could loop a pendant chain around her neck—one that matched the silver circlet around Prince Azymondias’ head that Raveid had made for him days earlier. “But I am giving it to you in hopes that there won’t be. Please be careful, Rayla.”

“I will.”

Rayla smiled at Raveid, but her smiled falter as she turned her eyes to Runaan. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. For a long moment, Runaan wasn’t sure if he could.

What could he say, to cover the distance between them? What could he say, in the space of a few moments, to convey not only all he  _knew_ , but also how he  _felt_? How could he say, in a gathered crowd of so many, that he did not  _hate_ Rayla—that he could  _never_ hate her, no matter what she did, when he had loved her as his own since she was so little she could hardly walk? How could he explain that the anger and frustration he had felt toward her was as unwelcome to him as it was to her, to everyone? How could he explain that even when he was so angry he could hardly look at her, he also wanted to keep her close and safe, rather than allowing her to wander back into danger with only a amateur human mage and baby dragon by her side?

Runaan took a deep breath through his nose, and just as the situation was growing too awkward for any of them to bear, said:

“Escorting Prince Azymondias to the dragon queen is the most sacred and important duty you will ever have. Do what you must to keep him safe, Rayla, at any cost. Treasure him as you do your own life.”

“I do,” Rayla said, and she stood up a little straighter. Runaan did not miss how her eyes flickered across the rustling crowd behind him. “I will.”

Runaan hadn’t missed Rayla’s discomfort at the crowd around them, but neither had Raveid. He and Runaan exchanged a minute glance, so swift Runaan was sure no one else noticed, before Raveid turned to the others in the crowd.

“Oh, that reminds me—we need to finish calibrating the boundary sensors in the southern wood.”

“Haven’t we done so already?” someone asked from the crowd.

Raveid shook his head. “No, we haven’t finished. Would you all mind helping me? There’s an awful lot of ground to cover; we’ll finish faster if we work together.”

“An excellent idea, Raveid,” Runaan said, before anyone could protest. “Everyone, please assist him in making sure our defenses are stable. I’ll join you as soon as I’m able.”

The grumbles and looks exchanged between members of the gathered crowd were nothing short of displeased, but once again, no one argued. They turned and started toward the opposite end of the village, and Raveid lingered behind only long enough to exchange a smile with Runaan before he followed them.

“Um,” Rayla said, and Runaan turned back to see her frowning uncertainly at him. “Should we help?”

“You have a far more important duty to tend to,” Runaan said, and he nodded toward Prince Azymondias, perched on Callum’s shoulders as he was. “Do not forget that.”

“Oh—of course,” Rayla said, and once again she drew herself up into parade rest, her expression set and serious. “I won’t—I’ll never forget.”

Runaan nodded. Silence fell between them again, awkward and tense and a little thick. Runaan still did not know how to say what he thought he should—what he thought was  _necessary_ to cover the distance between them—but he did know that he did not want these to be the last words exchanged between them. So he said, “Rayla.”

Rayla started, her posture just a little looser, her eyes a little wary, a little hopeful.

Runaan glanced over at Callum and Prince Azymondias, both of whom were watching in unmasked interest. When Runaan met Rayla’s eyes again, he slipped into their natural moonshadow elvish. 

_“From the night you left the castle in Katolis, your duty has been to protect Prince Azymondias, and anyone can see that you have upheld this duty admirably. The former Dragon Guard—your parents—would be very proud of you.”_

Rayla scoffed, and he didn’t need her to speak to know what thoughts were running through her mind as she cast a dirty look at the ground.

_“But even if they were not,”_ Runaan continued, _“I am.”_

Rayla jolted as though he had electrocuted her. She stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment, but after a few seconds ticked by she pressed her now trembling lips together, and looked down at the ground.

“Rayla?” Callum asked. He took a step forward, one hand raised as if to put it on her shoulder, but Rayla lifted her head and spoke without ever acknowledging him.

_“Thank you, Runaan,”_ she said, and though no tears fell, Runaan could see the traces of them in her eyes.  _“I—That means a lot to me.”_

Runaan nodded.  _“Return safely, Rayla. We will be waiting.”_

A small smile ghosted across Rayla’s face, and she turned as if to join Callum and Prince Azymondias at last. Yet before she did, she hesitated. She glanced back, her eyes lingering on Runaan for only a second, before she looked away again, her fingers curled into a fist by her waist. Runaan knew that look. She was hesitating—deliberating. Overthinking a decision, as she so often did—

But Runaan had hardly a chance to even think of chiding her for overthinking before she turned and launched herself at him in a tight embrace, her face buried in his chest. It had been years since Rayla had hugged him—years since she had decided that the serious of her assassin training needed to carry over into daily life as well, and it was partially for that reason that Runaan could not think of how to respond at first. Yet it only took a moment for old reflexes to kick in. Runaan returned her hug as best he could, given that he was still not truly used to his prosthetic, and held her gently.

_“I’m sorry,”_ she said, her voice muffled by his chest.

_“I know. It wasn’t your fault,”_ he said, and meant it.

Rayla squeezed him tighter for just a moment before she stepped back, and wiped any stray traces of tears from her eyes.

_“I’m going to take the wee dragon home to his mother,”_ she said,  _“and then I’m going to come back. We’ll make sure this war is over. For good, this time.”_

Runaan smiled faintly.  _“I look forward to that day. Please be safe, Rayla. Let the moon guide you.”_

_“I will. You rest well, and let the moon heal you, Runaan.”_

_“I will.”_

Rayla smiled—truly smiled at him for the first time since they’d been reunited—and turned to face Callum and Prince Azymondias at least. “Come on. We’ve got a long journey head of us.”

Runaan lingered behind long enough to watch them disappear into the trees, and then turned to join Raveid and the others.


End file.
